The Second Generation: Welcome to Hogwarts
by TheSecondGeneration
Summary: WARNING: Contains DH/HBP spoilers. Set directly after the DH Epilogue. Please review.
1. The Beginning

The Hogwarts Express chugged along the track, the students inside all excited to be going back to school and the first years inside nervous about the Sorting. One student in particular, Albus Severus Potter, was almost literally shaking at the thought of being stuck in Slytherin, separated from his brother, James. His father's consolation before he had boarded the train had done a little to soothe his nerves, but not much. It had been years since Harry had been at Hogwarts, and the Sorting Process might have changed by now. No, it wouldn't make much sense, but fear was irrational. It didn't listen to logic; it just made you all shaky and nervous. That was its purpose.

Albus was also fairly nervous that he wouldn't be a good student, that he would freeze up in the face of performing a magical task, or that he would be just plain _dull_. His name alone carried expectations: Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards the world had ever seen; Severus Snape, one of the smartest potion-makers and noted double agent; and last but _definitely_ not least, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Big expectations much? Yeah, he thought so.

There was nobody else in the carriage with him. Would Albus have no friends at Hogwarts, would he be forced to look to the teachers for protection? Questions like these nagged at his brain, at least they did until his brother came barging in with a couple other second-years. Then he was just annoyed, with an undercurrent of nervousness.

"Hey, little brother," James said, ruffling Albus's black, untidy hair.

"Cut it out!" Al slapped his older brother's hand away, glaring at him with his jade green eyes.

James was about to retort with something probably inappropriate, but a brown-haired boy came scooting into the carriage, carrying his luggage and a large tawny owl. "Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full." Without even waiting for an answer, the boy sat down. "Thanks," he said, nodding towards the bewildered Albus and the now-frowning James. "My name's Andrew. Andrew Brown. What's yours?" His dark blue eyes focused on Albus's, demanding an answer.

"A-Albus," he stuttered. "Albus Potter."

Andrew's mouth fell open. "Harry Potter's _son_?!" He was astonished. "Then that means you must be his brother," exclaimed, turning to James.

"Yeah… I'll just be going." And with that, James and his friends slipped out of the compartment, going to find somewhere else on the train with less excitable people, leaving Albus shifting uncomfortably under the disconcerting stare of Andrew.

"Erm… Yeah. My dad's Harry Potter. I kinda look like him, if you hadn't noticed…" He trailed off, not quite knowing where to go next. He was saved by the trolley lady, who had just opened their compartment door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked, turning to them with a kind face.

Albus bought some chocolate frogs and some Every-Flavor beans, since he collected the cards. Andrew bought a bunch of Pumpkin Pasties and a few Cauldron Cakes, as the two had agreed to share their purchases when they made their decisions.

The first box of Chocolate Frogs that Albus broke open had a card in it, one that he amazingly didn't have. It was Albus Dumbledore, the man who had died twenty years ago at the hand of another of his namesakes. His father had told him all about the reasons for the killing, how Dumbledore had previously ordered Snape to kill him when the time came. Albus stared morosely at the picture for a minute, and then turned it over when the man left the frame. He read the text on the back, having suddenly lost his appetite.

Albus tapped his new hemlock and unicorn hair wand, and was startled when red and gold sparks came flying out the end. He hadn't expected that. The train was beginning to slow. "We should change into our robes," Albus told Andrew, pulling them out of his trunk. The other boy nodded, and they proceeded with the task.

Albus caught himself staring enviously at the boy's large owl, wishing his own were larger. His was a smallish snowy, named Hedwig after his father's. Harry had regaled them with tales of his younger years, stirring their hearts and imaginations, making the boys almost wish that they had been him, and Lily, their younger sister, glad that she hadn't been her father. She was sensible like that, although she did do things out of the ordinary sometimes.

Albus's thoughts were interrupted when the train squealed to a stop, and a voice came over the intercom, saying, "Please leave your belongings on the train. They will be taken separately to the school." _We're here,_ Albus thought, and nervously made his way out the door of the compartment.


	2. The Experience

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I know this took a long time. . But, to be honest, I'd completely forgotten about this thing.

As Albus stepped off the scarlet train, he couldn't help but feel the excitement in the air, mixed as it was with dread on his part. It was almost tangible, the feeling, but it just set his heart racing at a time when he didn't wish for it to.

People stared as he made his way through the crowds to the large gamekeeper who stood easily above everyone else. "Hello, Hagrid," he smiled at his father's old friend. They'd met on countless occasions before, and Al couldn't help but be glad that Hagrid hadn't retired yet.

"'ello, Al. 'Ow's yer father doin'?"

"Great. He says 'Hi.'" It was a tad anticlimactic, but it served just fine.

It was beginning to be a little crowded around the half-giant, with all the first years responding to his call of "Firs' years over here!"

Hagrid was an automatic crowd-parter. His bulk created a wide path for the following first years as he made his way towards the lake, indicating that they should follow. Andrew stayed close to Albus as he walked, each very aware of the eyes on them—Albus because he was almost identical to his father, Andrew because he was with Albus. Great. He was famous on his first day here.


	3. The Ride

The boats were comfortable enough, Albus supposed, but they were a little uncomfortable. You'd think that a castle full of magic people would be able to rustle up something better than a load of flimsy wooden boats, albeit boats driven by magic. At least the first years weren't made to row. All the same, he just wanted to progress to the stage where he could ride in the relatively comfortable thestral-driven carriages.

Craning his neck to get a better view, he could see the blond head of Scorpius Malfoy in one of the boats ahead. Albus had really only seen the boy at the station, but something told him that they wouldn't be the best of friends. After all, their parents had been practically mortal enemies. Or it might've just been the fact that Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't mix so well.

As the boats drifted quietly through a thick curtain of ivy, Albus drew in a gasp along with everyone else. There it was—Hogwarts. The lights gleamed like so many beads of dew on a bright morning. A slight mist veiled the ancient castle in the cold September moonlight.

It took but a moment longer for the wooden hulls of the vessels to bump gently against the rocky shoreline. Heart beating somewhere in his throat, Albus clambered awkwardly out of the thing, extending a pale and clammy hand towards Andrew.

"Best if we stick together," he whispered under his breath. His companion nodded eagerly, taking it with his own sweating hand.

Each must have been equally nervous for the ordeal that awaited them. Al didn't know if Andrew came from a wizarding family or not, but he didn't feel like breaking the awkward silence with a question like that.

Once he was safely out of the boat and on the shore, Al dropped his—friend's?—hand, not wanting to give anyone the wrong impression. He could see his cousin Rosie's flame-coloured hair that she'd inherited from her father clearly in the mix of children—she stood out quite a bit as probably the only redhead there. Al didn't know who she was with, but he trusted that she'd found someone to be nervous with.

Hagrid knocked three times on the massive doors. They echoed in the now-silent night. Everyone had gone quiet as he had lifted his giant hand. The door swung open noiselessly to reveal Neville Longbottom, Herbology Professor and Deputy Headmaster.


	4. The Sorting

**Author's Note:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own the speech. I simply copied it from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. And no, I didn't feel like coming up with a song for the Hat.

Albus waved quickly to his father's old friend, mouth pulling up into a quick nervous smile. He received a nod of friendly acknowledgment before Nevi—excuse me, _Professor_ Longbottom—spoke the traditional welcome speech in the cavernous entrance hall. He had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the excited drone of voices audible through the thick doors to the Great Hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Neville. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

Professor Longbottom's voice continued with the air of one who had said this many a time before and expected to say it many times more in the future. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." His hazel eyes roamed over the crowd of ten- and eleven-year-olds in front of him, stopping briefly on Rosie and Al, as well as a few others he probably knew. "Good luck."

Professor Longbottom left the chamber for a brief moment before he came back with a decent-sized roll of parchment sticking out of his pocket. "Follow me."

Swinging the colossal doors open with what looked like very little effort, he led the first-years down the center aisle of the Great Hall, between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. The talk died off, leaving but a few murmurs and a pressing silence behind. Their destination was the other end of the Hall, where sat a four-legged stool and a rather ragged hat. A tear in it opened wide, and sang about the four houses, basically stuff Al already knew. He tuned it out, looking round at the banners hanging on the walls and the eager faces of the students all around him. Crowds had never been his thing, and he felt like every eye rested upon him.

At last the voice of the hat faded off, and the crowd burst into applause. Maybe it was just polite applause, but Al felt as if there were something more behind it. Awe, maybe? Either way, his moment was swiftly approaching. His stomach dropped down to somewhere near his toes, and his heart leapt up into his Adam's apple.

Neville pulled the parchment out of his pocket with effortless grace—he'd changed from the clumsy boy he'd been in his father's first year—and pulled it open to glance at the first name. "Adams, Maria!" A little blond-haired girl stepped forward, placing the hat timidly upon her head. It rested there for a moment longer before shouting, "RAVENCLAW!" The appropriate table clapped with the rest of the Hall, before going back into a respectful silence.

The procession continued, the hat taking longer to decide than others. "Malfoy, Scorpius" was called, and it had barely touched his head before it declared him a Slytherin. No surprise there. At last, the list made its way down to the Ps. "Potter, Albus," called Neville, and all talk ceased. It was like last year, another Potter son.

Heart hammering out a disjointed rhythm, Albus stepped forward. His face was pale, and ever so slightly frightened, jade eyes wide. He sat down on the stool, and placed the hat upon his head.


	5. The Meal

A/N: Wow, haven't touched this thing in a while

**A/N**: Wow, haven't touched this thing in a while. o.o Sorry for the wait, everyone! Completely forgot about this thing. xx

It seemed as if his heart had taken up residence in a new location – his throat. Every eye in the hall was trained up on him, save for his brother's, who was looking the other way with an air of "Oh, yeah, whatever" that was his trademark. Albus swallowed nervously as he placed the tattered old hat upon his head.

The brim slipped over his eyes: a relief, so he wouldn't have to see everyone staring at him so openly. The inside was cool and dark, although a little smelly from the previous first-years' sweat. _How often is this thing washed?_ he wondered idly.

"Interesting . . ." a low voice mused in his ear. "It seems as though the apple doesn't far from the tree, eh?" Albus could hear his heart hammering. _Not Slytherin_ was all he could think, again and again, a mantra of sorts. "I see, I see," the hat murmured. "Well, better be . . . GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was shouted for the whole hall to hear.

Albus pulled the hat off his head and handed it to Professor Longbottom with a shaky smile. The applause gave him enough strength to walk over to the Gryffindor table, where he collapsed with relief next to his brother and Andrew, not knowing anyone else.

"Well done, mate," his brother said with a warm smile and a friendly slap on the back before turning back to his friends.

Albus watched the rest get Sorted, seeing from the outside what his face had looked like – pale, sweaty, scared. His heart took its sweet time in returning to a more normal pace, but it seemed as if he had all the time in the world now that he was secure in the House of his choice.

Once "Zhaar, Allison" was Sorted into Hufflepuff, the headmaster, Professor McGonagall, stood up to deliver the customary beginning-of-year speech. It wasn't really anything special, just the usual warning to stay out of the Forbidden Forest, a few examples of contraband items, and, you know, usual stuff. When she finished, she clapped her wrinkled hands together and said, "Dig in!"

A lavish banquet appeared on the long tables, at which the first years gasped. The older children rolled their eyes at the new kids, reaching for their favourite dishes.


End file.
